Safe
by Anne Bowman
Summary: An old curse draws everyone into a deadly game.
1. prologue

AN: I don't own anybody. Also, this is a prologue, I guess, because the rest of the story is in third person.

I must be dead. That's the only logical explanation for this. Nothing but blackness outside my eyes, nothing but blackness inside. I guess I was right about the afterlife: I always thought I'd end up lying alone in the dark, talking to myself for eternity.  
  
I can still feel pain from the blow that must have killed me, though. I wonder how long this will last? Wait. If I was dead, I couldn't move, right? Of course not. So that's not it. Ew. The back of my head, where it hurts the most, is all gummy and gross. I don't think I'm currently bleeding, though. Sitting up might not have been the best idea; the spots in front of my eyes are blinking like crazy and the pain is getting more intense. Okay, time to stand up.   
  
That's a wall, right there. 1, 2, 3, 4. So this has to be a closet or a crawlspace or something, right? Too small to be a basement or an attic. A doorknob. Locked, of course. That would have been too easy. I could bang on the door or the other walls until my fists bled and nobody would probably come to let me out, considering that someone apparently felt the need to knock me out and drag me in here in the first place.  
  
So I'm going to sit here and review what I do know right now and try not to freak out too much. I know who I am. I know where I am, in general--Pennsylvania, we got into town this morning. We're at a rather run-down B&B on the outskirts of this town I don't remember the name of it. I was separated from the group, and by the time I got here, they had already staked their claims to the bedrooms that have actually been assembled. The woman who owns this place is in the middle of fixing it up. Half the house is in more or less the same state it's been in for the last 50 years, since the last family who lived here moved out.   
  
I found my room and dropped my bags. Then I went looking for the others. I found Jack, alone in his chosen room. He got up from the bed and started talking to me, asking me questions, engaging me in conversation. I didn't notice it then, but I can see him clearly in my head now; there was a little glint of warning in his eyes right before it happened, but his voice had a strange calm to it, like he was trying to be soothing, keep me from being suspicious. I don't remember what he was talking about. It wasn't important. I was about to answer one of his questions when I heard the door close behind us. It was that quick--I didn't even have time to turn around before it hit me. Something broad and hard across the back of the head, and the next thing I know, I'm flat on my back in here, speculating about whether I'm dead or alive.  
  
So the questions, then, are: who, what, why, and what happens now? Am I supposed to stay in here until I do actually suffocate or starve or something? I tried banging and shouting. If they could hear me, they didn't bother to acknowledge it. What's going on? I can't take this throbbing anymore. I'm tired. Maybe I'll go back to sleep, and when I wake up, everything will be back to normal. Maybe I'll be back on the bus and we'll all have a good laugh. I think I'll lie down now.  
  
I remember Peru. You could feel the eyes of the dead on you no matter where you went, even when you thought you were alone. You could feel their hands on you when you walked down the street. I remember my parents, our friends, water, heat. I'm drifting away... I remember this house?  
  
No, these memories aren't mine. I do remember this house as it looked a very long time ago, ramshackle then as it is now. It's dark outside, and I'm trying to sleep. Then I hear it: the first scream of what will be many this evening. It's the voice of another girl. My sister. There are male voices raised in anger, doors slamming open and shut. I step outside of my room gingerly, trying to escape notice. I can see them outside. My brothers are accusing her of ruining them. They demand that she break the curse she's laid upon them. She denies it, denies knowing anything about curses, she's screaming, she's scared. They discuss how to prove it. Suddenly her head lolls back and she's shouting something I can't understand in a voice not quite her own. One of my brothers steps toward her slowly; Tom, he thinks he's saving her, he can't stand to see this anymore. The first cut is made. He thinks he's helping draw it out of her, that the evil will simply flow out. It only makes her angrier--the words are coming faster now. They try to restrain her desperate, flailing limbs. Tom lunges forward again, determined this time. The words get even louder, then softer and softer until she's simply whispering gibberish, then silence.  
  
And I watch them turn on each other. Tom is the first to go, the weakest; he wasn't angry at her the way the others were. I think he really thought he could save her. There are five more, and throughout the night they battle, scheme, hide, and plot against each other until only one is left standing. I recognize him as William, the oldest. He looks around at the blood that has been spilled, at what he has won, and after a brief moment of satisfaction, it's over. He has no choice but to turn on himself now. They have forgotten I was ever here...

I am drawn out of my head and I can see myself clearly. I am younger now, mousy and pale, easy to ignore. I watch the days pass quickly, flashing by fast. There aren't many left. I am the last one to go, starved and neglected. My sister's curse has succeeded in destroying those who would challenge her.

I am awake now, though I can't be sure I was ever asleep. I am sure more than ever that I must get out of here now. I will scream until there is nothing left. I will make my presence known. I will knock this door down. I will not be destroyed.


	2. one

The tapping started softly, like distant footsteps. Then it stopped for a long time, and when it started up again it was almost like a sledgehammer. Did the house get quieter or did the sound get louder? It didn't take a genius to figure out where the sound was coming from. Clearly, someone had not carried out their assigned task, and Irene Bell knew exactly who to blame for this unpleasant development. She skulked upstairs to find her elder son, who was curled into a ball on the floor in the corner of a forgotten room. The sound had not escaped him, either.  
  
Downstairs, Jack had locked both the doors connecting his bedroom to other parts of the house and was contemplating whether it would be most advantageous to attempt to ally himself with a stronger player, or to strike out on his own with a series of sneak attacks. He was quite pleased with the method he and Clu had devised to get rid of Annie. But now that the weakest player was out of the picture, who would the others decide to take out next? Clu, probably, he supposed. And then it would be him. Yes, a plan was what he needed, and fast. Clu couldn't hide forever.  
  
Ned sat quietly on the front porch, sharpening his weapon of choice. There weren't many options out here in the middle of nowhere, but he had managed to find a nice bit of wood that might make an effective stake. He could feel the flimsy porch beneath him shake with the force of the repeated pounding from elsewhere within the house. He shook his head ruefully. He knew who Irene would want to get rid of next, and while he didn't exactly approve, he did want to win just as much as he knew she did. So he continued sharpening, calmly, as the ancient porch swayed back and forth around him.  
  
Like Irene, Molly was quite displeased with Carey's failure to dispatch Annie as directed. She decided to try a different approach than Irene's blunt force attack. She would be sympathetic; she would smile and offer the comforting thought that his weakness was okay, maybe even admirable. Yes. It would be better to gain his trust and then strike quickly than to attempt to beat him into submission and risk being overpowered by brute strength. Irene was probably the best-suited to this game of all of them, but Molly had a sneaking suspicion that Irene's tenaciousness might actually get her into trouble here. She could hear Irene shouting now, chastising her son for not following orders. She headed upstairs stealthily and listened more closely.   
  
"All you had to do was drag her out back and finish the job. That was all we asked you to do. Jack distracted her, your brother took care of the dirty work, all you had to do was finish it. And you couldn't even do that. What stopped you?"  
  
"I don't understand any of this," he protested. "Yeah, I want to win just like you do, but I don't know what it is I'm supposed to be doing."  
  
"It's not that complicated," she snapped. "Eliminate the weaker players. That's it. It's simple. We decided she was the weakest, and we asked you to do one simple thing, and you screwed it up."  
  
"I'm sorry, I just I was taking her out, but it just" Irene rolled her eyes.   
  
"I'm taking care of it now, so don't worry. Where did you put her?"  
  
"What are you going to do when you find her? Could you really kill her?"  
  
Irene shrugged. "Where did you put her?"  
  
He pushed himself back further into the corner. "I'm not going to tell you that."  
  
"Then maybe we were wrong," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "Maybe Annie isn't the weakest one here after all."  
  
Molly decided to make her move. "Now, Irene, it's not that difficult to figure out where she is. She's got to be downstairs. The noise gets louder the further down you go. Maybe she's down in the basement."  
  
Irene didn't bother to say anything else; she just walked away quickly, and they could hear her eager steps pounding down the stairs. Molly laughed. "Your mother sure is into this, isn't she?"  
  
Carey didn't bother to answer. He began rocking back and forth quickly with his eyes closed. "Hey," she said softly, reaching out. She placed her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to steady him. "Relax. She didn't mean it. She was just trying to get you to tell her about Annie."  
  
"But you know it's true," he said. "At some point, I will be the weakest, even if I'm not now. And then it will be someone else. And what do you win when it's all over?"  
  
She smiled sympathetically. "I don't understand any of this either. It's like sometimes I can't even control my own thoughts in this place. We should get out of here."  
  
"She won't leave. Neither will the others."  
  
"That's okay. Come on, you and I, we'll make a quick getaway, see if it clears our heads."  
  
He offered a tentative smile in return, but his expression quickly turned to one of horror. He looked down at her hands, still clutching his shoulders--they had become predatory, like claws. Her face changed; she was feral, on the verge of attack, ready to tear into him and claim a casualty for her own. He tried to pull away, shoving himself back against the wall, when suddenly his vision cleared. Molly was backing away with her hands in a surrendering position, looking at him with genuine concern. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah," he said, swallowing hard. "But I don't think I can leave."  
  
"That's okay. It was just an idea. I don't know what's going on here, but I'm sure we'll find out. Don't worry," she told him soothingly. "We'll make it out of here. You did the right thing. When your mother starts thinking clearly again, she'll realize that too."   
  
"Thank you."  
  
She smiled sweetly at him.  
  
It would undoubtedly have been a nice moment between them, were it not for the piercing scream that interrupted their conversation. It was a male voice, and Molly's maternal instinct kicked in briefly: "Jack!" she shouted, heading downstairs at a quick pace.   
  
Jack didn't answer. He just stood there, holding the kitchen knife, staring at it, unable to believe what he had done. But shock soon turned to satisfaction, and he faced the row of shocked faces that crowded into the open door. "Jack, what have you done?" Molly asked in a tone that was not as condemning as it was awed. Clu lay prone on the floor in front of him, bleeding and unconscious.   
  
"I don't exactly remember," he explained. It occurred to him too late, as he glanced around at the others: since Clu had been eliminated from the game, he was the one in danger now. He decided to run for it, and impulsively did so, slamming the other door behind him.   
  
Irene and Ned regarded their younger son with a curious degree of apathy and detachment. Try as she might, Irene could not remember this boy as her son; he had simply been an opponent. A fallen opponent. Good riddance. So, who was next? Jack, clearly, thought he would be. So maybe a surprise attack to subvert expectations was the answer. 

But who?


	3. two

There was nothing Irene liked better than a well-made plan. She headed downstairs almost cheerily, intent on resuming her search for Annie. While the girl wasn't causing any trouble at the moment, the fact remained that she was a loose end that needed to be eliminated. It was sad, really, the lot she had been given in life. Her sons, while pretty, were neither ambitious nor persistent. Clu was an easy target, and while Carey's physical attributes made him more desirable to keep around, chances are that he would also be easy to eliminate from the game. She had decided to subvert expectations by going after Jack instead of trying to launch a surprise attack, which everyone else would probably become paranoid anticipating. Maybe they would turn on each other, doing her work for her. After a brief conference with Ned, it was decided that she would finish off Annie herself and Ned would locate and take care of Jack.   
  
The pounding had resumed, though it was a bit weaker now, so it was easy to track the source of the sound. She weaved her way through the hallways on the lower level, listening carefully. She could hear stampeding footsteps upstairs, doors slamming and locking. She smiled. Perhaps instead of 3 remaining opponents, after Jack was removed from the game, there would be only two. And she would be that much closer to winning.  
  
She became absorbed in imagining her inevitable victory, so much so that her normally acute hearing failed to perceive the calculatedly light steps approaching her quickly from behind. When she snapped out of her brief reverie, it was too late to run. Ned had an unmistakably apologetic look in his eyes and tone in his voice, but his body moved as if guided by some vengeful force beyond his control. He wielded his stake menacingly, and she backed away slowly as he advanced. She decided to appeal to the others' sympathy instincts by screaming, which she did. And it worked; Molly and Carey rushed downstairs and through the hallways, yelling for her. Ned backed off a little, and she took advantage of that momentary pause to attack, leaping at him, clawing and fighting, trying to wrestle his weapon away. Molly tugged on Ned's arm, trying to pull him backward, while Carey pulled Irene off of Ned, though she was still struggling.   
  
"Come on, you guys," Carey pleaded. "We can't turn on each other like that. Wasn't the plan to eliminate the weakest players first?"  
  
"What happens then?" asked Ned. "Then it's you who'll be running and hiding, like Jack is now. And when you're out, it'll be Molly. Then Irene, and then I'll have won. So what, I decided to skip a couple of steps?"  
  
"I don't think this is a game. I don't think any of us will survive if we keep playing like this. I I don't understand the rules, exactly, but I feel like I feel like it would be enough just to get the other players out of the house. Not to kill them. I can't explain how I know what the object of the game is, but can any of you even explain why we're playing?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," Irene said. "Fine, so we'll play to get the other players out of the house, whatever. But you stay away from me," she growled at Ned. "I thought I could trust you."  
  
"Trust?" he laughed. "What's that?"  
  
"I'm going to find Annie now," she said, and headed off toward the pounding. Molly glanced at Ned and Carey, who were regarding each other warily.   
  
"Hey, wait up," she called, and ran to catch Irene.  
  
"What," Irene said, continuing to walk quickly.   
  
"We need a plan."  
  
"We do? That's funny. I thought I had a plan."  
  
"Look, since you can't trust Ned, and he thinks he's going to win, I think you and I should work together until working together becomes a problem."  
  
"I'm listening." Irene took off in a different direction. Molly followed her closely.  
  
"I think that wherever she is, Annie will probably suffocate eventually. She's out of the way, and maybe that is enough."  
  
"So what do you propose?"  
  
"It occurred to me when Jack ran away that I don't think I could get him out of the game if I had to, and that's dangerous. Somehow for some reason, I just don't think I could actually hurt him. Annie was easy, because she isn't really a family member. I mean, could you have taken Clu out?"   
  
"Probably."  
  
"Well, you're stronger than I am, then."  
  
"Not stronger. More determined." She stopped and turned toward Molly. "Get to the point."  
  
"You get Jack. I'll get Carey. Then you and I will get Ned. That's my plan."  
  
"Okay," shrugged Irene. "And Annie just bleeds to death, or whatever?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"And you won't attack me out of nowhere until the time comes?"  
  
"Right. You won't, either?"  
  
"All right," Irene agreed with a smile, relishing the thought of a good new plan. "I'll find Jack."  



	4. three

Irene and Molly headed back toward the stairs in pursuit of their new targets. But while they had been distracted by Ned's attack and the ensuing conversation, Jack had worked his way downstairs and located the source of the pounding. In a closet, in one of the unfinished rooms on the extreme back end of the lower level, Annie was still attempting to shake the door off its hinges. Jack pulled on the knob with both hands, yanking the door open, finally. Annie rushed upon him in relief, then backed off when she saw who her rescuer was. "What do you want?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"I don't think it's very fair that you should be stuck in there while we're all playing the game out here."  
  
"Are you going to try to hit me again?"  
  
"No," he assured her. "But you had better arm yourself. The game is getting a little vicious. I eliminated Clu, and Ned just went after Irene. I don't know how that turned out, though, all I heard was some screaming."  
  
"Jack, listen," she said urgently, grabbing his hand. "You've got to stop playing. All of you have to stop. This is sick. And it isn't you. It's this place, it's got a pretty twisted history. Everyone who has lived here has had to play out this game, and believe me, it never ends well."  
  
"How do you know?"   
  
"I-well, that's kind of complicated. Just trust me. Have I ever been wrong?"  
  
"Yes, many times."  
  
"Well, I'm not wrong now. Please, listen to me, we've got to get out of here."  
  
"All right, calm down. We'll leave. Right now," he offered. "Let's go."  
  
"Not just us," she exclaimed. "Everyone!"  
  
"Okay, we'll all leave. Why don't you go on out to the bus, and I'll go tell everyone that we have to leave now?"  
  
"Okay," Annie agreed brightly. "No. Wait. Jack! Come on!"  
  
"I'm sorry," he laughed. "I just don't believe that houses are evil. I saw that movie, too."  
  
"It's not the house that's evil," she explained through gritted teeth. "It's okay, listen, there was this girl, and her brothers killed her, so she put a curse on the house and the people who lived in it, and all the brothers killed each other playing this stupid game. The house isn't evil, it's cursed, and as long as we stay here, we'll be cursed too. Stop being skeptical for a second and try to think about why you started playing the game and why it's important to you to win. Can you explain it? No? Well, that's why. This isn't really you. There's something making you act like this. That's why we need to get out of here."  
  
Jack paused thoughtfully. It was true, he couldn't quite identify the reason that he had started playing or why he was determined to win, or at least not be eliminated soon. But cursed houses? He sighed. "Okay, maybe you're right," he admitted. "But even if I believe that curse story, which I don't, there is no way the others are going to leave. Maybe Carey, but my mom and the Bells are pretty into this."  
  
"So we'll trick them," Annie suggested desperately.  
  
"No. Maybe if you set the house on fire?"  
  
"With what?"  
  
"It was just an idea." There was a silent pause as Annie tried to think of a way to evacuate the house, and the sound of footsteps descending the stairs became louder. Jack let out a little scream and took off running again, leaving Annie to fend for herself. She looked around the room quickly, trying to find somewhere to hide, but there was no furniture, and the closet would be too obvious. The window. She pulled on it, but it hadn't been opened in a hundred years and was therefore resistant to this idea. She winced and broke the glass with her bare fist, which in retrospect might not have been the smartest thing to do, she decided. But the window was open now, so she took the opportunity to climb out and run into the surrounding trees, where she would be able to think of a new idea to stop the game while avoiding attacks from the other "players."  
  
Jack, meanwhile, was not interested in her thoughts about the source of the game anymore; not when there were threats coming from four sides. With all of them working alone, it would be much more difficult to hide effectively, so the time had come to stop running and strike out again. Nothing would please the adults more than if he took out Carey, the next weakest player beyond him, so he couldn't do that--he wouldn't make it easier for them to get him. So it would have to be one of the adults. His question of which one to target next was quickly answered, as he locked himself inside a room with Molly.  
  
"Jack," she said, surprised. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Are you?"  
  
"So far." She smiled to put him at ease.   
  
The other door was closed, but it swung open and Carey entered, looking behind him. "Oh," he said.  
  
"Hi," offered Molly.  
  
"Hi," Jack repeated.  
  
"Am I interrupting something?" Carey asked.  
  
"No," said Molly.  
  
Jack said, "Kind of, yes."  
  
Molly regarded him with surprise. "Yes?"  
  
"I'm sorry," Jack replied simply, approaching her with his head down. She backed into the corner. He stopped, suddenly. "I can't do it, can I? Maybe Annie's right."  
  
"Annie?" interrupted Carey.   
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Jack," Molly whispered, looking at him with something approximating malice, though her voice seemed to express regret or sorrow. "Run!" 

He didn't ask questions. He obeyed. And she gave chase. Carey followed behind them, prepared to intervene. Jack ran into the next room, slamming the door behind him and locking it. Molly rattled the doorknob and yelled in anger. 


	5. four

Jack's habit of running into random rooms was getting him into more and more trouble as the game progressed. He had no idea where she had been hiding, but Irene was lying in wait, and pounced at him when he entered his latest room, taking advantage of his unsuspecting pause to lock the door. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him against the wall roughly.  
  
He grunted in protest, struggling hard before she reassured him in a tone much softer than her actions would indicate: "Relax, Jack."  
  
"Hey, Mrs. Bell," he offered nervously. "I, uh, I never got a chance to apologize about Clu, did I?"  
  
She cocked her head. "Why would you apologize?" He fumbled for an answer. She observed his unease and smiled sweetly. "I should be thanking you."  
  
This did not put him any more at ease. Now he noticed that her hair was a little wild, her eyes were a little predatory, and the change in her was almost attractive? He shook his head slowly in an attempt to unwrap the offending thought from his mind. She widened her smile, which became a baring of fangs, at this seeming plea for mercy. Maybe she would be merciful. Maybe she wouldn't play with him first, as she had planned. Instead she withdrew an army knife from her pocket and held the tip of the blade firmly under his chin. Jack gripped her wrist, and tried unsuccessfully to pry away the knife with his other hand.   
  
The silence had been broken only by their nonverbal expressions of frustration until the moment when her phone rang. Beethoven echoed through the room, its tinny notes deafening now. It rang once, twice, three times. Irene paused and considered whether to answer. Jack took advantage of the distraction, pulling the knife out of her hand and lunging forward, retrieving the phone from her pocket. He glanced at the caller ID window before holding the phone high above his head. Her eyes narrowed as a new strategy formed itself quickly.  
  
He grinned at her. Irene's own grin didn't falter as she asked: "Okay, what do you want?"   
  
She backed off, allowing him to think he had escaped his inevitable fate for the moment.   
  
"What do I want?" he repeated.   
  
"What do you want? Are you looking for an ally, a partnership?"  
  
"I'm looking for victory," he said arrogantly. "I don't need a partner."  
  
She laughed. "That's what you think. Maybe you can get past me, maybe not. I'm sure Molly and Carey will take care of each other. Then you'll have to get by Ned. You think you could stand up to him?"  
  
He considered this. "So what are you proposing?"  
  
"Oh, I'm not proposing anything," she said, coming closer. "It's too late for partners. I don't need any help. You think you've got some kind of upper hand because you took the knife? I don't need that either. That was the easy way. I'm just as happy to do it the hard way." She continued to walk toward him, and he backed into a corner. She placed her hands on his chest and he became aware of her heat, her scent, her essence surrounding him suddenly. Jack swallowed hard and tried to maintain his perspective: best friend's mother, mother's best friend, many years older. Clu. Gabe. Ned. Bad idea. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again, more violently this time.  
  
"Is there something wrong with you?" she asked, observing this apparent seizure.  
  
"Look," he said, allowing a little desperation to creep into his voice. "I can help you."  
  
She cocked her head again. "You can help me? How could you possibly help me? I've almost won."  
  
Jack nearly laughed. "I know something you don't."  
  
"Oh, yeah? What's that?"  
  
"Annie is alive and well." He couldn't decide whether her expression betrayed shock or irritation. Maybe both. "And I know where she is."  
  
She bowed her head and closed her eyes, trying to think of the best approach to take to get what she wanted. "Tell me," she finally whispered, gazing at him, pressing herself closer.  
  
This time, he did laugh. "I'm not going to tell you."  
  
She gave him a little push and backed off again, crossing her arms across her chest. "So I'll say it again. What do you want?"  
  
"Hey, I want her out of the game as much as you do. But I'm not going to tell you where she is." He tossed her the phone and seized her hand, holding on to it tightly as he unlocked the door with his own free hand. "I'll show you."   



	6. five

Molly decided to give up searching for Jack. She allowed Carey to think it was out of a growing disenchantment with the game, but in truth, it was simply because it seemed as if no one in this house could stay out of anyone else's way for very long. The people she needed to find would find her in time. And she had promised Irene that she would get Carey out of the game. She was just having a little trouble finding a way to do that, exactly.   
  
She sank to the floor and frowned. He crouched beside her, looking concerned. "What is it?"  
  
"I just can't believe I did that," she finally said. "I can't believe I went after Jack like that. It's like I just can't control myself anymore, you know?"  
  
"I know," he said sympathetically, placing his hand on hers. "I feel it too. But you can control it, as long as you remember that it isn't really you. I think there's just something really weird about this place. I guess we shouldn't be surprised."  
  
She laughed and wiped away a few tears. "No, I guess we shouldn't."  
  
"So that idea you had about getting out of here you still want to do that?"  
  
"No. We can't leave your parents here, or Jack. We've got to find a way to get everyone out."  
  
There was a silence as both of them, presumably, attempted to think of ways to achieve this. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and stood up. Carey, of course, followed suit. Molly glanced at him with only a hint of irritation. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
"I can feel it starting up again," she lied. "You better get out of here."  
  
"No," he said firmly, grasping her shoulders. "Just remember that it isn't you. Try to remember who you really are."  
  
"I don't think I can do that."  
  
"I think you can." He smiled. She attempted to display an internal struggle, shaking her head and wincing. When she opened her eyes, he was staring back at her worriedly.   
  
"Are you are you okay?"  
  
"I'm not sure. I'm afraid." Without warning, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. She was too surprised to put up a fight, and after a while it occurred to her that this was like drowning. After the initial instruct to struggle and restore the status quo, to return to the surface and breathe again, there was a sort of peculiar bliss tinged with dread that settled in once it became evident that this was something over which she was not expected to have control, a fate she could simply not deny. Of course, the dread came from knowing that letting herself sink would lead to suffocation, blackness, forced sleep, death. 

At least that's how she'd always imagined drowning would be. And that was how this felt.  
  
She was surprised by his voraciousness. At first she had assumed maybe it was a side effect of this uncontrollable instinct to play and win that had taken them over, or just a spontaneous sort of thing, but now it seemed more like it was a release of something that had been repressed for a long, long time. And maybe it was like that for her too, or maybe it wasn't--she couldn't really be sure. The desire to win the game had blurred her memory and her mind so that the only thing that was truly in focus was the ability to strategize, to plot her inevitable victory. But even that was sort of fading at the moment, until there was virtually nothing left but sensation and relief.  
  
The normal version of her mind fought hard to be heard, reminding her: many years younger, son's best friend, best friend's son. Bad idea. But there was an almost pleasing symmetry to it, wasn't there? She decided to let herself fall. Maybe the suffocation would be worthwhile, if only for the moment of bliss that preceded it...

Jack led Irene by the hand into the room where he had left Annie. His triumphant grin faded as he noticed that she was not in the closet, nor was she hiding anywhere else in the room, and the window was broken and a little bloody. "Damn."  
  
Irene pulled her hand away and looked inside the closet for herself. She growled, looking out the window. No sign of Annie anywhere. Irene felt the anger surge inside her and took her rage out on the wall, slamming her fist into it as hard as she could. This, perhaps, was not the best idea. She withdrew her hand and noticed blood spring up in jagged lines across her knuckles. She tried to wipe it away with her other hand, but the wounds were fresh and tender, so she nearly yowled in pain. Without really thinking, Jack took hold of the bleeding hand and examined the scratches closely. She didn't bother to fight. "It's not serious," he said, still holding her fingers.   
  
"It feels serious."  
  
"It isn't." Their eyes locked, and it almost became like a scene out of a romance novel where the mutual gaze becomes a sort of tractor beam, drawing the lips closer together until there is no distance left between them. Their lips did meet, but it was brief. Ned's voice boomed through the house, interrupting everyone: "I found Annie! I can see her through the window--she's getting on the bus, out front!"  
  
Irene pulled back and regarded Jack with equal amounts of guilt and suspicion. He nodded, and she gave him a small smile before heading off at top speed to get Annie. He followed behind her at a slower pace. Why do more work than was required of him? He was close enough to see what happened when Irene opened the front door and stepped over the threshold onto the front porch: she collapsed as if the life had been removed from her body in one smooth movement. His brow furrowed; was she actually dead? 

He decided that it didn't really matter, looking quite pleased. Either way, she was out of the game.

One down. Three more to go.


	7. six

AN: Two things you should know: I don't own anybody but myself and this isn't the last chapter. 

~~~~~~~~~

"Jack!" Ned's voice echoed throughout the house. Jack's head snapped up and he would have sworn that needles of adrenaline were actually pushing themselves out of his arms and legs. No. Of course Ned had no idea about what had happened. He couldn't know. He was well, wherever he was. Wasn't he supposed to be going after Annie? Jack decided not to answer, opting instead to creep up the stairs as quietly as possible.   
  
"JACK!"  
  
Jack squeezed his eyes shut and started walking faster. If Ned came after him, he'd be out of the game before he could even squeak out a plea for mercy. His foot found the last stair and he took off running down the hallway. "Whoa," said Carey, shoving Jack backward as they collided. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"  
  
"Haven't you heard your dad yelling for me?"  
  
"Yeah," Carey said slowly. "So?"  
  
"So I'm next on his list."  
  
"Oh. That sucks," he replied noncommittally.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Well, I'm gonna go hide some more."  
  
"Come on, what good will that do? Face him like a man!"  
  
Jack's brow furrowed as he considered this advice. "Hey, you're just trying to eliminate me without having to do any dirty work, aren't you?"  
  
Carey just smiled.   
  
"Look, why don't we form a little alliance? Is your dad the only player left?"  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"So what do you say, you and me, we team up to take out your dad and then deal with each other later?"  
  
"Mm, I don't think so. I don't really need any help. This whole game thing it's kind of asinine, really. I think I'm just gonna head on out to the bus or something and wait for you guys."  
  
"Well, where's my mom?"  
  
Carey shrugged. "I don't know, man, she just took off."  
  
"But you said your dad was the only player left," Jack reminded him suspiciously.   
  
"Did I?"  
  
Jack finally caught on and began formulating a plan for running away. "Okay, look, I--"  
  
Carey took this moment to lunge forward, catching Jack off-guard. He knocked Jack down with a quick hard blow to the solar plexus and began to drag him toward the stairs for a final send-off.  
  
"JACK!" Ned shouted again from somewhere below. 

Carey looked up, momentarily distracted. Then, darkness.   
  
He woke up some time later, sprawled out on the floor in a windowless room with a solitary light bulb swinging from the ceiling. He opened his eyes slowly, taking a moment to let the pain spreading across the back of his head truly register and wash through him. He gripped the offending region and swore quietly. Once his vision came into focus, he looked around the room, squinting in the dim light. There was Jack, slumped against a corner. He stood up and headed for the door, intent on revenge. He had expected to find it locked, so he attacked the hinges instead. Jack grunted and groaned. "Get up," Carey commanded. "Help me with this."  
  
"Oh, now you want help?"  
  
"It's just as good for you as it is for me," Carey pointed out. Jack couldn't argue with that, and began to work on the lower hinge. Finally they succeeded in pushing the door down. Carey headed out first, quietly, listening hard for any clues to the locations of the remaining players, whoever they might be. But they were uncooperative, if they were out there. He couldn't be sure, but he thought they had just broken out of a room toward the back of the main floor. He headed toward the front door, with Jack following stealthily. Sure enough, the front door was standing wide open and there was Ned, laid out next to Irene. They stood in the hallway and contemplated the scene for a moment.  
  
"What happened?" Carey wondered.  
  
Jack was about to answer when he was grabbed roughly from behind and dragged into a bedroom. The door slammed and locked behind him, and Carey shook the doorknob and pounded on the door.  
  
"What?" Molly asked from inside.  
  
"Let me in!"  
  
"No."  
  
"Come on, there's no way you can do it," he said.  
  
"Why don't you go outside and look for Annie?" she suggested sweetly.  
  
"Okay. Wait. No. Hey, that's not nice."  
  
"Oh, shut up. We're busy."  
  
"Come on, I can help you," he replied urgently. "Then we'll win!"  
  
"We?"  
  
"Oh, Molly. I'm hurt."  
  
"Hey, you're the one who started this," she reminded him. "I was all ready to team up, and you betrayed that. I'm not falling for it again. Now, go away."  
  
He backed off. There was really no point in trying to get in there; one or the other would emerge victorious, and then he could take down the winner. He exaggeratedly stomped his feet a few times to indicate that he'd left the area. Then he leaned against the wall and waited.  
  
But he didn't have to wait for long. The door flew open in a matter of seconds and Jack attempted to get past him, but Carey, propelled by the advantage of the surprise factor, grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back into the bedroom. "See?" Carey said. "I can be helpful. I've changed."  
  
"All right," Jack interrupted, attempting to negotiate. "What do we do now?"  
  
Neither Molly nor Carey responded. Then Carey remembered something: "Hey, so what happened to my mom out there? And Dad?"  
  
"Your mom went outside to check on Annie, but as soon as she went outside she just fell over."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Well, I was, uh, I was with her."  
  
"Why were you with her? Why wouldn't she have just taken you down while she could?"  
  
"I was, you know, helping her. I showed her where Annie was."  
  
"Why were you helping her?" Carey asked, advancing on Jack.   
  
"She would have been a powerful ally."  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"Hey, man. Back off." Jack backed toward the wall with his hands in a surrendering position. Carey, needless to say, did not heed his advice.  
  
"You're awfully nervous all of a sudden, aren't you?"  
  
"Maybe you're just projecting," Jack replied, narrowing his eyes. He stopped and folded his arms across his chest.   
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"What do you think it means?"  
  
"If I knew," Carey pointed out, "I wouldn't have--"  
  
"Hey," Molly said suddenly. "Shut up. Do you smell that?"  
  
Carey and Jack paused. Then: "It's smoke. Isn't it?"  
  
"Jesus, she actually did it," Jack marveled.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing. But I think we'd better get out of here."  
  
"Aren't you forgetting something? Apparently going outside isn't too beneficial to one's health either," Molly pointed out.  
  
"I'd rather die by falling over than burning to death in this house," Jack said logically.  
  
"Well, the porch would eventually burn too," said Carey.  
  
"Then we'll have to trust Annie, won't we?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Because we don't have another choice, anyway," Jack said. So they headed for the front door in a tight group, none wanting to allow the others to lead.   
  
"Hey, wait," Carey said, stopping suddenly. "What if this is a trick?"  
  
"I think we're past that now," said Molly. She grabbed both of their hands and charged for the door, but Jack pulled back at the last second. "What is it?"  
  
"Clu's still in there," Jack said.   
  
"Isn't he-"  
  
"I don't know. It doesn't matter." He and Carey exchanged a look and headed back down the hall. "You go ahead," Jack shouted back to her. "We've got him."  
  
Molly stepped toward the threshold, took a deep breath, and walked outside.  
  
When Annie came upon the scene a few minutes later, she found six bodies on the porch and the back half of the house on fire. "Hey, he actually did it," she marveled. But there was little time to waste. Even Annie could figure out that the fire would soon spread. She dragged each of her friends a safer distance from the house, except for Ned. She tried mightily, but he just wouldn't move. So he made it down the front stairs, and that was all. But the others were sprawled out around the front yard.   
  
Annie searched Irene for her phone and didn't find it, so, having no other option, she headed up the hill to the dirt road that led to the house. She took a last worried look toward the house and her friends and noticed a solitary young figure walking into the house, having finally succeeded in breaking her sister's curse. The door slammed behind her as the fire raged on. Annie smiled and started walking toward town. 


End file.
